Devil's brows rose higher. "Nothing of any importance."

Honoria's eyes narrowed. "He waited until one in the morning to see you to report 'nothing of any importance'?"

Devil nodded. Honoria searched his eyes; her own eyes widened. "You're lying!"

Inwardly, Devil cursed. What was it that gave him away? "There was nothing Lucifer discovered that might lead us to Tolly's murderer."

Honoria stared at him. "That's not true either."

Closing his eyes, Devil swore beneath his breath. "Honoria-"

"I can't believe it! I helped you-it was I who discovered Tolly was untroubled when he left his parents' house."

Opening his eyes, Devil saw her chin tilt, her gaze shift. Before she could begin her usual peregrinations, he locked both hands on the mantelpiece, one on either side of her. Caging her. Incensed, she glared at him.

"Believe me," he said, trapping her heated gaze, "I'm grateful for your help. The others are concentrating on discovering where Tolly went after he left Mount Street. What Lucifer came to report was something else entirely." He paused, choosing his words with care. "It may be nothing, but it's not anything you can help investigate."

Honoria considered the evidence of his eyes-they remained crystal-clear. Whenever he lied, they fogged. She nodded. "Very well. I shall continue with my own investigations, in my own way."

Devil's hands clenched on the mantelpiece. "Honoria, we're discussing tracking a murderer-a cold-blooded killer-not discovering who stole the Queen of Hearts's tarts."

"I had assimilated that fact, Your Grace." Honoria tilted her chin higher. "Indeed, before I leave for Africa, I intended seeing the villain taken in charge."

Devil's jaw set. "You are not going to Africa, and you'll stay well clear of this villain."

Her eyes flashed; she lifted her chin one last notch. "You're very good at giving orders, Your Grace, but you've forgotten one pertinent point. I am not subject to your authority. And never shall be."

Those last four words were Devil's undoing; lightning-fast, he straightened, hauled her into his arms, and set his lips to hers. In his present state, it was sheer madness to try to coerce her, to attempt to enforce his will in that way.

Sheer unmitigated madness.

It snatched Honoria up, buffeting her senses, ripping her from reality. Only her fury and an intuitive grasp of his aim allowed her to resist. His lips were hard, demanding, searching-for a response she longed to-ached to-give. She locked her lips against him.

His arms locked about her; unyielding steel, they tightened, impressing her soft flesh with the male hardness of his. Sensation streaked through her; her skin tingled. Still she held firm, holding to her anger, using it as a shield.

He tilted his head, his lips moved on hers, a powerful, elemental call to her senses. Inwardly reeling, Honoria clung to lucidity, sure of only one thing. He was kissing her into submission. And succeeding.

Fragment by fragment, she lost her grip on her fury; familiar heat flooded her. She felt herself soften, felt her lips lose their resolution, felt all resistance melt. Desperation gripped her. Surrender was too galling to contemplate.

Which left attack her only option. Her hands were trapped against his chest; sliding them up, she found the hard planes of his face. He stilled at her touch; before he could react, she framed his jaw-and kissed him.

His lips were parted-she slid her tongue between to tangle challengingly with his. He tasted powerful-wonderfully, elementally male-a mind-whirling sensation gripped her. He hadn't moved-instinctively she deepened the caress, angling her lips against his.

Passion.

It burst upon her, upon her senses, in a hot flood tide. It rose from within him, from between them, pouring through her, cascade upon cascade of exquisite sensation, of deep, swirling emotion, of soul-stealing compulsion.

On one heartbeat, she was the leader, on the next, he resumed command, his lips hard, his body a steel cage surrounding her. A cage she no longer wished to escape. She surrendered, gladly yielding; ravenous, he stole her very breath. Breasts aching, heart thundering, Honoria stole it back.

Between them, desire smoldered, flared, then exploded, flames licking greedily, devouring all reticence. Honoria gave herself up to them, to the beckoning pleasure, to the thrill of desire, to the urge of molten need.

She pressed herself against him, flagrantly enticing, hips shifting in unconscious entreaty. Fingers sliding into his thick hair, she reveled in the raw hunger that rose, naked, elemental, between them.

Their lips parted briefly, for less than a heartbeat; who pressed the next kiss was moot. They were lost together, trapped in the vortex, neither in control, both beyond reason. Hunger welled, swelled; urgency mounted, inexorable, compelling.

An almighty crash shook them to their senses.

Devil lifted his head, arms tightening protectively as he looked toward the door. Gasping, literally reeling, Honoria clung to him; dazed, she followed his gaze.

From beyond the door came sounds of calamity-wails and recriminations exchanged between two maids-then Webster's sonorous tones cut across the commotion, bringing the plaints to an end. The sound of tinkling glass and the scrape of a whisk on the polished boards followed.

Honoria could barely make out the sounds over the thundering in her ears. Her heart thudded heavily; she had yet to catch her breath. Eyes wide, she looked into Devil's face-and saw the same driving desire, the same inchoate longing gripping her, reflected in his silvered eyes. Flames lit the crystal cores; sparks flew.

His breathing was as ragged as hers. Every muscle in his body was taut, coiled. Like a spring about to break.

"Don't-move."

He bit the words out; his eyes blazed. Light-headed, barely able to drag in her next breath, Honoria didn't even think of disobeying. The planes of his face had never looked so hard, so graven. His eyes held hers steadily; she dared not blink as, rigid, he battled the force that threatened to consume them-the passion she had unleashed.

Degree by painful degree, the tension holding them decreased. His lids lowered, long lashes veiling the subsiding tempest. Gradually, his locked muscles eased; Honoria breathed again.

"The next time you do that, you'll end on your back."

There was no threat in his words; they were a statement of fact.

Hedonistic, unpredictable-she'd forgotten about the wild. A peculiar thrill shot through Honoria, immediately swamped beneath a tide of guilt. She had seen the effort her naive tactic had cost him; remnants of their passion still shimmered about them, licking at her nerves, shivering over her skin. His lids slowly rose; she met his gaze unflinchingly.

And put up a hand to touch his cheek. "I didn't know-"

Turbulence engulfed them as he brusquely drew back.

"Don't-" His features hardened; his gaze transfixed her. "Go. Now."

Honoria looked into his eyes-and obeyed. She stepped out of his arms; they fell from her but not readily. With one last, hesitant glance, she turned away; head high, shaken to her toes, she left him.

The three days that followed were the hardest Honoria had ever faced. Distracted, her nerves permanently on edge, her stomach a hard knot of reaction, she struggled to find some way out of the impasse that faced her. Hiding her state from the Dowager left her drained, yet being alone was not a desirable alternative; once free, her mind dwelled incessantly on what she had seen, what she had felt, what she had learned in the morning room.

Which only added to her distraction.

Her only consolation was that Devil seemed as distracted as she. By mutual consent, they met each other's eyes but briefly; each touch-when he took her hand or she placed it on his arm-rocked them both.

He'd told her from the first that he wanted her; she hadn't understood what he meant. Now she knew-instead of frightening her or shocking her, the physical depth of his need thrilled her. She gloried in it; at some fundamental level, her heart positively sang.

Which left her feeling exceedingly wary.

She was standing before her sitting-room window, mulling over her state, when a knock fell on the door.

Her heart skipped a beat. She straightened. "Come."

The door swung inward; Devil stood on the threshold. He raised a brow at her.

Honoria raised a brow back.

Lips thinning, he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. His expression was unreadable-not impassive so much as deliberately uninformative.

"I'm here to apologize."

Honoria met his gaze steadily, certain the word "apologize" rarely passed his lips. Her feelings took flight, only to plummet a second later. Her stomach hollow, her heart in her throat, she asked: "For what?

His quick frown was genuinely puzzled, then it evaporated; his gaze grew hard. "For appropriating Celestine's bill." His tone made it clear that if she wished for an apology for what had transpired in the morning room, she'd be waiting until hell froze.

Honoria's unruly heart sang. She fought to keep a silly-totally unnecessary-smile from her lips. "So you'll give me the bill?"

He studied her eyes, then his lips compressed. "No."

Honoria stared. "Why apologize if you won't give me the bill?"

For a long moment, he looked at her, frustration seeping into his expression. "I'm not apologizing for paying Celestine's account-I am apologizing for stepping on your independent toes-that was not my intention. But as you so rightly pointed out, the only reason such a bill would cross my desk was if you, as my wife, had referred it to me." His lips twisted. "I couldn't resist."